A Four Legged Fourth
by B.A. Tyler
Summary: It’s the morning after a big 4th of July party, and the camp dog goes in search of a companion who’s not hungover. Is that even possible? Another installment of Puppy Dog Tales.


**A Four-Legged Fourth**

_Author's Note: Story 4 of Puppy Dog Tales. Follows "Anywhere But Here," "Yappy Easter," and "Acceptance."_

_So it turns out the Puppy Dog Tales don't have much of a readership, but those who __do__ read them are very vocal. Thanks to all of you who enjoy Blake's stories and have told me so. This one is especially for Texas Bluebonnet, perhaps the most vocal Blake fan of all._

* * *

Ah, the dog days of summer.

I sniffed the air, getting my bearings, having just woken up in the middle of the Swamp floor, surrounded by bottles, dirty clothing, streamers, popcorn, and who knows what else. The day was already very warm, and it was kind of early in the morning, or so I guessed from the way the air smelled.

We dogs have a remarkable sense of smell.

I stood up and shook myself all over. Quite a 4th of July party last night. Well, technically, the party had started yesterday afternoon and then had just kept going on and on and on… That was typical for these folks, though. They worked like dogs when they had to, but when they partied… they _really_ partied.

I looked around the tent. Not surprisingly, Hawkeye, B.J., and Charles were completely zonked out. The last I'd seen of them during the party, they'd been waving sparklers around and singing "God Bless America," though they managed to mangle the lyrics pretty good. They'd been very drunk. I'm no dummy; I knew better than to wake them. I headed out of the Swamp as quietly as I could, took care of my potty needs, and then walked around the compound to see what was going on.

Not a darn thing was going on. Was I the only conscious creature in the entire camp? The sun was up but I didn't know what time it was (dogs and time… don't even get me started… we simply don't understand what all the fuss is about). The problem was that I needed a human in order to get fed. And boy, was I hungry!

Sheesh, a little thing like a national holiday sure can turn a place upside down. I wasn't even entirely clear on what Independence Day was all about. Charles had explained it to me yesterday, but I didn't understand most of what he was saying. Besides, Klinger was giving me some chicken bones at the time, so I was a little distracted.

Mmmm… chicken bones. I was starting to salivate now.

I stuck my nose into Margaret's tent, careful to be quiet. She was also sound asleep on her cot, her mouth hanging open in an unladylike fashion. The last time I'd seen _her_, she'd been drunkenly playing this game they called Pin the Pearls on Klinger. They'd made this huge poster of Klinger, and the players got blindfolded and were supposed to pin a paper string of pearls near his neck. Don't even ask.

You know what they say about letting sleeping dogs lie? I let the sleeping head nurse lie, that's for sure. She's normally a nice woman, but when she gets mad, look out!

I headed over to Klinger's tent. He's the one who had made my collar for me, which I still wear with pride. It has Blake embroidered on it, because that's my name. I was named for the beloved former C.O. of this camp. The people here have told me all kinds of stories about him. If I'd met him, I know I would've liked him.

Klinger was yet another sleeping beauty, and I was starting to think I wasn't going to get fed anytime soon. I backed out of his tent and made my way over to Radar's office.

Well finally, a human being who was vertical! Radar was not only awake, alert, dressed, and moving around, he was also _working_. Every other soul in camp was just barely breathing.

"Oh hey, buddy!" he said when he saw me bump my way in the door. "How are ya? Oh wow, I'll bet nobody has fed you yet, huh?"

I really like this guy.

"OK, Blake, you wait here and I'll run to the mess tent to get you a little something. Nobody seems to be awake yet, not even the cook, but there's plenty of leftover food. You're not picky, are ya?"

Heck no! But he already knew that.

I waited in his office while he ran to get me food. There were piles of folders on his desk. He'd probably been putting them in order when I showed up. His 'Out' bin was filled with papers that had probably been sitting in his 'In' bin as recently as last night. He was the most efficient, hard-working human I knew.

After a while, he returned with some cold cuts and bread with cold, congealed gravy on top. Hey, beggars can't be choosers. I ate it all.

Since nobody else was even awake, I figured I'd hang out here with Radar. I followed him into post-op, where he just walked up the aisle to make sure the patients were resting comfortably and not having any kinds of problems. I'm sure he would've woken up one of the doctors if it had been necessary, but apparently it wasn't necessary. The patients seemed all right. If I could talk, I would have said to them, "Heal!" which is a joke that never ceases to crack me up. Too bad I couldn't share it with Radar. He would've busted a gut.

For the next couple hours, Radar sat at his desk and worked. I curled up on his cot, nodding off every now and then, just enjoying the fact that I had company. Sometimes he would say something to me, like, "And now I need to type up this letter for Col. Potter," but most of the time he was too intent on his work to chat.

Much to the surprise of both of us, the office door flew open at one point and Nurse Kellye stuck her head in. "Radar?"

"What?" he blurted out. He sounded so startled. We both thought the entire camp was asleep. He recovered quickly and apologized for his curt tone. "Sorry, you just scared me. This place has been as quiet as a graveyard for hours."

"I know," she said, flashing dimples. "Just about everybody's still sleeping it off. But I'm finishing up the inventory of the supply tent, and I thought I'd tell you that we're very low on penicillin. Too low, actually—it needs to be ordered right away."

Radar jotted a note down on his pad. "I'll get the forms out right now, and as soon as I see Col. Potter, I'll get them signed."

"Thanks, Radar." She disappeared again.

Radar spent more time on paperwork, and then I followed him to Col. Potter's office, where I watched as he dusted, organized the desk, put folders back into the filing cabinet, and fogged up Mrs. Potter's picture so he could wipe it clean.

Back to post-op to check on the patients, all of whom were asleep.

Out to the supply tent, to write down the information from the penicillin box, filling out the form that Col. Potter needed to sign.

To the mess tent, where he got me some more cold cuts (dog bless 'im) and poured himself a cup of coffee.

And finally back to his office. The whole time, the camp was eerily quiet. We were the only creatures stirring… except possibly a mouse. It had to be pretty late in the afternoon by now, and still people were sleeping off the party!

Not Radar, though, who'd already done the work of about 20 humans.

Once again I hopped onto Radar's bunk and took a nap. Who knows how long I was out, but I was awakened by the sound of the door opening and somebody groaning as he stepped in. Col. Potter. He actually winced as he walked. I'll tell ya, the poor guy looked sick as a dog.

"Colonel?" Radar said, concern in his voice.

"Shhhh," Potter said, hands at his head. "Not so loud."

Radar hadn't been even slightly loud. Col. Potter was hurting pretty bad, I guess.

Nearly whispering, Radar asked, "Why don't you go back to bed, sir? Everything's fine. The paperwork's all caught up for the next five days. The daily report's done. Everything's filed and put away and authorized and organized."

Potter got something close to a smile on his face. He tilted his head. "Is that right?"

"Yes, sir. There's no reason for you to be here if you'd be better off sleeping. And no offense, sir, but you look like you'd be a_ lot_ better off sleeping."

Potter looked positively relieved. I'll bet it had taken all his energy to even drag himself from his bed to here. "Well OK, then, son. If you're sure you don't need me for anything…"

Radar, suddenly remembering, grabbed his clipboard from the desk. "Just one thing, sir. I need your signature on this form for more penicillin."

"You bet," Potter said, signing where Radar pointed.

"Thank you, sir. And yeah, that's all I needed. Now go back to sleep. Everything's under control here."

Potter bent over to give me a pat on the head, and then he staggered out the door, heading back to his inviting bed.

Radar looked at me and shook his head. "Good thing we didn't get any wounded today, huh, Blake? I think you and I might have had to do the operations." He giggled. I would have too, except that I can't.

I watched as he sat back down at his desk, getting ready to type yet another letter or report, and I thought, What on earth would this camp do without this kid? He pretty much ran the whole place all day, while everyone else was too knocked out from the party to function.

Yeah, I know that Col. Potter's the alpha of this pack and that the doctors have the most important jobs. But watching Radar today made me realize something. So what if you're not the biggest or the highest-ranking or the most educated.

Even the littlest Chihuahua can be top dog.


End file.
